I was two degrees from Lyndon Johnson in 1968: one of his Secret Service men stepped on my foot as he backed up to let the President pass on Johnson’s way out of Municipal Auditorium in New Orleans. I was close enough to touch the President, but knew I’d lose an arm if I did. Close enough to see the hairs sticking out of his right ear, in fact.
“Orange Crate Art” is a song by Van Dyke Parks and the title of a 1995 album by Van Dyke Parks and Brian Wilson. “Orange Crate Art” is for me one of the great American songs: “Orange crate art was a place to start.”
Don’t look for premiums or coupons, as the cost of the thoughts blended in ORANGE CRATE ART pro- hibits the use of them.
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Life is to be lived, not controlled; and humanity is won by continuing to play in the face of certain defeat.
Ralph Ellison, Invisible Man
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Νέος ἐφ’ ἡμέρῃ ἥλιος. [The sun is new every day.]
Heraclitus
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Every day is a new deal.
Harvey Pekar, “Alice Quinn”
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Nos plus grandes craintes, comme nos plus grandes espérances, ne sont pas au-dessus de nos forces, et nous pouvons finir par dominer les unes et réaliser les autres. [Our worst fears, like our greatest hopes, are not outside our powers, and we can come in the end to triumph over the former and to achieve the latter.]
Marcel Proust, Finding Time Again
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Surely, in the light of history, it is more intelligent to hope rather than to fear, to try rather than not to try.
Eleanor Roosevelt, You Learn by Living
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I don’t really deeply feel that anyone needs an airtight reason for quoting from the works of writers he loves, but it’s always nice, I’ll grant you, if he has one.
J.D. Salinger, Seymour: An Introduction
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I’m not afraid to get it right I turn around and I give it one more try
Sufjan Stevens, “Jacksonville”
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L’attention est la forme la plus rare et la plus pure de la générosité. [Attention is the rarest and purest form of generosity.]
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I was two degrees from Lyndon Johnson in 1968: one of his Secret Service men stepped on my foot as he backed up to let the President pass on Johnson’s way out of Municipal Auditorium in New Orleans. I was close enough to touch the President, but knew I’d lose an arm if I did. Close enough to see the hairs sticking out of his right ear, in fact.
Does that count?
I should hope so. :)
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